No matter how he'd answered Alain, his brother-in-law would have twisted his words.
He retrieved his phone from his coat pocket, and hit the receive button. "Agent Stern."
"Hey Boss." Illie's usually cheerful expression looked subdued. "We've got a problem."
"Just one? That would be a minor miracle." Gabriel rubbed his eyes wearily. "What's up?"
"You remember Kathryn Douglass?"
"It was only yesterday that we visited the Foundation, Illie.
I may be older than you, but I am not senile."
His would-be partner snorted. "Yeah, well, the SIU just received a call from the State boys. It appears Kathryn Douglass has been murdered."
"What?"
"Yeah. Happened last night, at her home. State boys called us because there was no entry or exit point to the scene.
They're saying there's obviously nonhuman involvement."
"I'll meet you there—" He glanced at his watch. "—in fifteen minutes. Did you manage to interview the foundation's security guards?"
"Still no dice. But I did find out some more interesting information about Douglass's bank accounts."
"Fill me in at the scene."
"Be there in fifteen." Illie hung up.
Gabriel looked at Alain. "I've been called to a murder scene. Make sure you keep out of Sam's sight."
Alain gave him a grin that held very little humor. "I've been doing this for more years than she's been alive."
"Yeah, but she's a whole lot cleverer than most of our usual targets." He drained his coffee and stood. "If anything happens, call me immediately."
"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to your lady."
Gabriel didn't dignify the comment with an answer. Just turned around and headed back out into the weather.
* * * Sam leaned against the elevator wall and watched the numbers roll by. Wetherton, despite his supposed fear of heights, had moved his office from the third floor to the twenty-fifth floor, claiming a good third of the top floor's expensive floor space for his board room, office and waiting area. If anyone in the government or press thought this was outrageous, they weren't saying anything. Maybe they were just so used to the excesses of government ministers they simply didn't bother questioning it anymore.
Or maybe Wetherton was simply paying off the right people.
It certainly wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened.
The elevator stopped and she walked out. The standard blue carpet in the lobby area gave way to a plusher, more luxurious plum once she'd pushed through the doors leading into the minister's office.
A buxom blonde looked up and gave her a practiced but totally false smile. "Good afternoon. How may I help you?"
Sam dug out her badge and showed it to the woman.
"Samantha Ryan, SIU. I have an appointment to see the Minister."
"Ah, yes. If you'll just have a seat, I'll let him know you're here."
The blonde picked up the phone. Sam sat on the nearest pale lemon couch and let her gaze roam. The first thing she noticed was the security camera in the corner to the left of the reception desk. It was pointed at her rather than the doorway, meaning someone was probably watching her.
Or maybe all visitors were watched this intently. Paranoia surely had to become a fixture in the life of a man who was a clone rather than the real thing.